A Matter of Love and Death
by Tycho
Summary: Mid seasons 5 and 2 (Angel), Spike makes some decisions that will change everyone's lives. S/B, A/C. 11/2/02 - a small interlude to whet your appetites for what I write now
1. Part 1

A Matter of Love and Death  
by Tycho  
Contact: tychocelchu@optusnet.com.au  
Summary: Mid seasons 5 and 2 (Angel), Spike makes some decisions that will change everyone's lives. S/B, A/C  
Disclaimer: Whedon owns all.  
  
"What are you doing here? Out walking again? Five words or less, and no swearing this time." Buffy was not in the mood for Spike's antics this night.  
  
Said vampire took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled it slowly, considering the words that would follow. "Making a decision. Made it."  
  
The Slayer crossed her arms impatiently. Everything Spike did or said seemed to inspire her to violence, or at least irritation. "And what would that be?"  
  
"I'm leavin'." At her puzzled expression, he explained further. "I'm leavin' Sunnyhell. I can't be here anymore. Figured I'd go to LA and give ol' Dad a hand. Somethin's been feelin' off in that direction, lately, but I'm not sure what." Buffy sensed that that was just an excuse to cover up his true reasons for going, and told him as much. "The truth, luv? I hate to misquote from a good movie, but I don't think you could handle the truth. Not while I'm within striking range anyway."   
  
He pulled an envelope out of his duster and handed it to her. Her name was written across the front in elegant script, totally unlike the image the author projected. His final words to her that night were: "You need me, for anything at all. You know how to reach me." A sad smile ghosted his lips. "Even if you do only want to yell at me. But no hitting, K? G'bye, Buffy."  
  
Completely confused by his behavior, Buffy could only stare at him as he walked away. Then she shook her head, turning her mind to more important matters.   
  
Her mom was going to be alright.  



	2. Part 2

Spike watched from the shadows. He'd always been good at that. Especially around his Sire. Of course, a brass band could have kept themselves hidden from Angel these days. Why?  
  
He was just a little obsessed.  
  
With a dead woman.  
  
Of course, for Angelus, that was nothing unusual. Except that this particular dead woman had already died twice. And by the feel of the limousine pulling up outside Darla's hotel room, she would again. So far Angel had kept her human, but the vamp inside the limo would change all that. Spike gasped an unneeded breath when he saw who it was.  
  
This night a vampire would sire her own grandsire.  
  
Within minutes, the party was over, the guests were leaving.  
  
Spike followed. Forty minutes later they reached their destination, but Spike kept going. He knew where they were, and besides.  
  
Dawn was coming.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Cordelia handed Angel some sheets of paper. "Okay, here's the list of local cemeteries, funeral homes and mauso...Oh Shit!"   
  
A crossbow bolt had just punched a hole through the sheaf of papers and embeded itself in the desk. The AI team looked around for the assailant and prepared for an attack. But none were forthcoming. Angel picked the bolt out of the desktop. Wrapped around it was a business card belonging to a plant nursery. He ripped it off. On the back was written. 'She rises here, now. An ally.'  
  
Ordinarily, Angel would be suspicious. Ordinarily he would let his associates, his friends, know where he was going. But these were far from ordinary circumstances. He had grabbed his coat and was in his car with the keys in the ignition faster than the words can be said.  
  
Half an hour later, he entered the green house. Inside he found a dirt filled seedbed. He brushed the dirt aside until he found the shroud that covered Darla's face. For a moment he hesitated, then pulled it aside.  
  
Like most corpses, she merely looked asleep. Calm and serene. Angel pulled a stake from his pocket and raised it. The first prayer in a long time flashed through his mind. *Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.*  
  
Moments later, Darla ceased to exist.  
  
Harsh, slow clapping came from the dark. An equally dark voice floated out. One that Angel had last heard amidst agonising torture. "Well done. Din' think you'd actually go through with it for a moment. But you did."  
  
A figure emerged from the shadows, and Angel growled out it's name. "Spike. Should've figured. Where Dru goes, her whipped puppy follows."  
  
"Sorry to disappoint, Peaches, but I'm someone else's puppy now. Don't worry 'bout Dru tho'. She's locked unconcious in a trunk on 'er way to Prague. She always did like Prague. Sorry I couldn't let you kill her, but ah who really knows why. No longer the love of my life, but still there you know? Sorta like you an' the Slayer."  
  
"Leave Buffy out of this." Angel practically growled.  
  
Spike lit a cigarette. "I would if I could figure out how to get 'er out o' my head." He suddenly looked abashed, and began studying his shoes. He'd said far more than he'd intended. It didn't take long for Angel to put two and two together and come up with an answer he in no way liked.  
  
Spike looked back up at his sire just in time to see the fist rushing towards his nose.  
  
Things only went downhill from there.  



	3. Part 3

Cordy was fretting. It was 8.45 and there was still no sign of Angel.  
  
Wesley paced. It was 8.53 and Angel had not yet returned.  
  
Gunn snored. Right now he didn't care what time it was, and the only Angel returning was the one in his nightmares. The one that drunkenly sang 'Stairway to Heaven' out of tune and of sync with his platinum blonde partner-in-song-killing as they staggered through the basement entrance to the Hyperion. But it was the fact that both of them were in vamp face that really weirded him out, until he realised he was no longer sleeping.  
  
His sleep fogged brain finally managed to catch up on what was being said.  
  
Blonde: yur riiite! She'sh rule prutty.  
Angel: Handsh offf. Cora'sh mine. All mine. I luvv 'er, so 'andsh off.  
  
A finger waggled in the blonde vampire's general direction, as if the finger's owner couldn't quite figure out which face it was supposed to waggle at.  
  
Gunn couldn't help but smirk at this little confession that he'd suspected months ago, and at the shocked looks on his partners' faces. Some people were so blind.  
  
Blonde: 'S'alright. Not gunna. Ravva me a Shlayer, anywho, er how. Way.  
  
Angel started laughing, and Gunn could see the joke. Vampire in love with a Slayer and all. He'd learnt quite a bit about vamps since hooking up with this crew.  
  
The blonde didn't see the funny side, however, and flung himself bodily at his drinking companion. Cordy shrieked, fearing for soon to be broken furniture, equipment and bodies. She needn't have worried, though.   
  
Both vamps had passed out before they had rolled two feet. Gunn looked over at the still astonished Wesley. "Let me guess. Now we gotta haul their dead weight asses upstairs, so as not to scare people away."  
  
Wesley considered the matter the way he always did and eventually came to a conclusion. "I suppose so. Better put them on different floors though. I don't think either one will be much for company when they awaken."  
  
"You got that right, English."  
  
Cordelia remained dumbfounded. He loved her?  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The two vampires stared at each other across the table, sometime around sunset. They were surrounded by the inky darkness of the Hyperion's kitchen when every source of light had been removed. Even the smallest amount of light hurt right now, or the slightest whisper. These are the aftereffects of multi-dozen bottles of good whiskey, tequila and several other only half remembered varieties of alcohol.  
  
One of them finally decided to test the limits of vampiric endurance. "Why are you here Spike? And don't give me any crap about redemption or helping the helpless."  
  
"Same reason you are, Peaches. Her. Buffy. She hates me, everythin' I am. I. I don't hate her, let it go at that."  
  
Angel frowned. The idea that his childe actually .... not hated Buffy grated against his being. But there wasn't very much he could do about it. Not anything that wouldn't have a dusty ending anyway. Besides it almost hurt too much to think, let alone fight. So he let that part rest. For now. "So why here?"  
  
Spike thought it over for a long while before finally answering. "Because I can't go back to what I was. 'S'not who I am anymore. Her fault of course. But I feel that I want to thank her at the same time."  
  
"So why here?"  
  
"Two reasons. First: lack of choice. Underworld hates my guts, you know what that's like. This is the only place I can be without continually looking over my shoulder."  
  
"And the other?"  
  
"So she knows where I am, doesn't have to go looking for me once she reads what I gave her. She knows you'll get rid o' me if I step out o' line." Spike didn't mention the change in personality he'd noticed in his sire, his apathy. That would come later when he knew more. Wouldn't do for him to have to tell the Slayer her ex had gone evil again.  
  
Silence reigned in the darkness as Angel considered his options. Finally he came to the only conclusion he could. *I must be insane.*  
  
"Fuck it up and I'll dust you myself."  
  
"Wouldn't have it any other way, sire."  
  
Both vampires knew it would be a long time before they trusted each other.  
  
"Did you hear about Joyce?"  



	4. Interlude I

Interlude - Return from Pylea  
  
"Can I say it? I want to say it." Angel was grinning like a loon as he opened the front doors to the Hyperion Hotel, "There's no place like . . . . ."  
  
The smile left his face, and his brows knitted in pain and confusion as he spied the young woman sitting patiently, but ever so sadly on the couch. Wesley was just as shocked to see her, and neither Gunn nor Fred knew her identity.  
  
Cordelia knew who she was, and why she was here. The former queen of both Sunnydale High and Pylea walked regally down the steps and into the hotel's foyer proper, and embraced the girl who had been her nemesis. Said nemesis finally allowing tears to creep down her pale cheeks.  
  
Angel was still confused, not an uncommon event. "Buffy? 


End file.
